


Bulbasaurs and Coffee

by missazrael



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Plants, Sweetness and light, Tattoos, botany student Jean, jeanmarco gift exchange 2016, tattoo artist marco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 15:59:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8997412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missazrael/pseuds/missazrael
Summary: Jean is having a dry spell in his sex life.  Fortunately, wingman Reiner is there to help him out with a very practical suggestion: why not go get a tattoo from this very hot new artist Reiner knows?
Written for the 2016 JeanMarco Gift Exchange





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Madblippo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madblippo/gifts).



“You know what you need?”

Judging by the way Reiner’s eyes are twinkling and the cocksure grin on his face, Jean knows the answer. “I have absolutely no idea,” he answers instead, making his voice and expression as deadpan as possible as he eyes Reiner over the top of his menu.

Reiner bends forward, and Jean resists for as long as he’s able before giving in and leaning in too. Curse Reiner and his stupidly high charisma. “What?” Jean rasps, lowering his voice to a whisper, which just makes Reiner grin wider.

“You,” Reiner whispers back, putting one big hand on Jean’s menu and pushing it down onto the table. “Need. To get laid.”

Jean rolls his eyes and snatches his menu back up, using it to hide his face. “Yeah, yeah, tell me something I don’t know.”

“Just making sure you were aware.”

“Like I could forget.” Jean has had dry spells before, but this one… ever since Armin moved across the country for a PhD program, he’s been celibate. Disgustingly, pathetically celibate. He and Armin tried to keep it going long distance, but had eventually just faded away from each other. Last time he checked on Facebook (in a completely non-stalker way, just a casual perusal, no jury could convict him), Armin was “in a relationship” with some girl named Annie. Blonde, blue-eyed, small and petite like Armin himself. They’re a cute couple, and Jean is just going to ignore how his chest tightens when he thinks of them. It’s been, what… almost a year now? Reiner’s right, he _does_ need to get laid, but Jean is going to really take his time with this menu, really look things over, so Reiner doesn’t think he’s agreeing with him right away.

The waitress comes back, and Reiner places his order, flirting with her in that cheerful, harmless way of his that everyone responds to, and she’s all smiles as she takes his order. Jean is much more brief and to the point, and she barely looks at him before leaving.

When Jean looks back across the table, Reiner is grinning again, and he knows he wasn’t able to fool him.

“Okay, fine.” Jean sighs, and Reiner does a small, jovial fist pump in the air. “How are you going to get me laid?”

“Glad you asked.” Reiner tents his hands and leans in, pinning Jean with a steely gaze. Jean hates it when he does that; he’s doing his lawyer-taking-the-stand thing, which always creeps Jean out. “I have several options.”

“Of course you do.”

“Option one: get you to update your Grindr.”

“ _No_.” Like Jean hasn’t thought of that already, and immediately discarded the idea. Not that he has anything against random hookups, but he’s just not feeling them these days. Hasn’t felt them in years.

“You sure?” Reiner flashes a quick, mischievous grin. “That’s how I met _my_ boyfriend.”

“I still can’t believe that Bertolt used Grindr.”

“It was his first time.” Reiner snickers. “In more ways than one.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Jean sits back, almost certain that Reiner is going to get distracted. Only one thing can break his laser-like focus these days, and they’ve just stumbled upon it.

“You should see the cock on that man,” Reiner says dreamily, confirming Jean’s suspicions. “Hung like a goddamn porn star and too shy to know how to use it. Ten inches, Jean. Not kidding one bit… ten. Glorious. Inches.”

“Does he vibrate and fix your car too?”

“Now that’s just stupid. You really think my dad would’ve let me get my license back in the day without knowing how to fix the car?”

Jean waves a hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, glorious cock, much big, super huge, wow. Now back to how are we going to get _me_ some dick?”

Reiner snorts laughter. “So you’re not into the Grindr option?”

“Absolutely not. I don’t need to get laid _that_ bad.”

He’s lying through his teeth; he needs to get laid in the worst way possible, and he knows it. It’s been too long, he’s been pining, _pining_ like some eighteenth century novel heroine, and it’s time to let Armin go. Armin has moved on; now Jean needs to do the same.

“Okay, so no Grindr.” Reiner tics off choices on his thick fingers. “We could go to the clubs and find you somebody, but that’s not a sure thing. You also suck at dancing.”

“Thanks for the confidence boost.”

“Just stating the facts. You could try another online service, one of the more match-makey ones, but those tend to focus on straight people.” Jean can tell Reiner is building to what he wanted to say all along, because he leans across the table and his eyes light up mischievously. “Or you can come get some ink with me.”

“… what?” This is a turn Jean hadn’t anticipated, and he gawks across the table at Reiner. Go get some ink? Reiner has tattoos crawling up and down both arms, thick, bold black lines that descend from his shoulders to the middle of his forearms, just far enough down that they can be hidden under the suits he wears to his internship at the law office. Jean wonders sometimes what all the stuffy lawyers would think if they knew their golden boy intern had almost complete sleeves covering his arms. 

But Jean has never gotten a tattoo, has even had an inclination to get one, and he has no idea where Reiner has gotten the idea that he might suddenly want one.

 

Reiner sighs and sits back, casually draping one arm over the back of the chair. Jean can’t help it; his eyes are drawn to the designs etched across Reiner’s skin, shown off today by his short-sleeved shirt. “You need to pay closer attention to what the family’s doing.”

“The hell?” Jean lifts an eyebrow; why does Reiner keep jumping from topic to topic?

“Uncle Mike hired a new tattoo artist.” Reiner grins again and points one finger at Jean. “Super talented, really hot, and extra gay.”

“Have you seen him?” Jean silently curses himself for not checking things on Facebook more closely, or maybe if their uncle is going to hire new talent that’s hot in more ways than one, he should mention it specifically to Jean!

“He inked me.” With the casual attitude of someone with zero body issues and utmost confidence in himself, Reiner lifts up his shirt, showing off a new design on his abs. “See?”

Jean bends forward to get a closer look. It’s an arty, flowing design, stretching back from Reiner’s ridiculously unfairly tight abs towards his hip, something with a flower and black lines and some blue in that watercolor style Jean keeps seeing on Buzzfeed. It’s a nice piece of work, although Jean spots something that makes him frown. “The number of stamen are wrong.”

“What?” Reiner bends so he can see the tattoo as well. “What’re you talking about?”

“The number of stamen. If that’s supposed to be a hibiscus, it should have four, not three.”

“Son of a bitch.” Reiner drops his shirt back down, much to the lingering waitress’s disappointment. “I’ll have him add another one when I go back.” He lifts an eyebrow in conscious imitation of Jean. “With you?”

“We’ll see.” Committing to a permanent decoration seems like a lot to get to talk to some guy, no matter how hot he is. “What’s this guy’s name, anyway?”

“Marco.”

~*~

A few weeks pass uneventfully. Reiner goes back to the tattoo parlor and gets a stamen added, sending Jean a picture of the fixed tattoo and the message “Marco says thanks and that he wants to meet you ;P,” which Jean doesn’t reply to. He means to answer, he honestly does, but it’s the end of the semester, and the Christmas rush at the shop is starting, and there are so many stupid hipster that want plants for gifts but have no idea how to take care of them, that Jean falls into bed every night exhausted, unable to even contemplate how his dry spell is stretching ever further into the future.

Somehow, though, he finds time to do something which most would consider a waste of time, which Jean himself considers a waste of time. He finds an old sketchbook with a few blank pages at the end, and starts drawing little doodles, idly brainstorming when he’s between classes or has a moment or two of downtime at work. It starts when a repeat customer comes in and just doesn’t understand why his succulents aren’t growing, and after some grilling, Jean realizes that the dumbass doesn't understand their root structure or growth patterns in the slightest, and he draws a hostile diagram to educate the dipshit. The dipshit leaves happy, diagram tucked into his messenger bag, and Jean, stressed out by the total disregard to plant lives and happiness, sketches a Bulbasaur on the back of a receipt.

It continues from there. Before Jean even realizes what he’s doing, he’s drawing Pokemon everywhere; mostly plant Pokemon, and he keeps coming back to Bulbasaurs, because it’s so easy to add a succulent to their backs. He tries it with all the different styles of succulents in the shop, until he decides that _Jovibarba Apache_ looks the best, and then he keeps tweaking it, sketching and re-sketching until he has a finished product, something he can be proud of.

Then he texts Reiner.

~*~

**Jean: is mikes shop open this time of year  
Reiner: yes  
Reiner: why  
Reiner: 8D  
Jean: dont make that face at me  
Reiner: 8DDDD  
Jean: you suck  
Reiner: and well too, I’m told  
Jean: wow thanks for that image  
Reiner: (typing)  
Jean: IF YOU SEND ME A DICK EMOJI I SWEAR TO GOD  
Reiner: …  
Reiner: you’re no fun  
Jean: ur a perv  
Reiner: ;)  
Reiner: a title I wear proudly  
Reiner: so…  
Jean: can you make us an appointment?  
Reiner: 8DDD!!!DD!DD!D!D!D**

~*~

Even though Jean and Mike have technically been related for a few years now, Jean has never been in the man’s tattoo shop. He’s never been in any tattoo shop, and he eyes it suspiciously as he and Reiner walk down the sidewalk. It looks normal enough, but Jean has his doubts.

“Why’s it called Shaggy Dog Parlor?”

“Have you _seen_ Mike? Like, ever?”

“Fair point.”

Reiner struts right in like he owns the place, but then, that’s how he walks through life. Jean follows at a more sedate pace, looking around with curiosity as he takes off his scarf. The tattoo shop looks more than an art gallery than what he expected, with brightly colored drawings all over the walls, and photographs of people with tattoos Jean assumes were done in the shop. He spots a picture of Reiner on one wall, flexing his arm and showing off the design that Mike had inked on him, and another of a very young-looking Nanaba and Mike, standing in front of the shop with their arms around each other, smiling shyly into the camera.

“Hey!”

Jean looks up, and finds it suddenly hard to breathe. Reiner wasn’t kidding… the tattoo guy is _gorgeous_.

He looks more like Reiner’s type than Jean’s, honestly: he has a dark complexion, his skin a warm olive glow, and black hair that he’s grown long and wearing in a messy man-bun behind his head. His chest and shoulders are broad, heavy with muscle, and taper to a neat waist over long legs that are thick in all the right places. Yeah, there’s no doubt that he’s a fine looking piece of meat, but it’s only when he smiles that Jean feels all the blood in his body rush southwards. The tattoo artist has a dazzling smile, his teeth white and even, his eyes crinkling around the corners, and Jean almost doesn’t realize the man has spoken until he sees the hand being offered to him.

“Hi. I’m Marco, and you must be Jean. Reiner’s told me a lot about you.”

“Uh…” Jean thrusts his hand forward and grabs Marco’s, giving him the best handshake he can, considering the circumstances. “Hi. Nice to meet you. I’m here for a tattoo.”

Marco laughs, the sound pleased and genuine, and Jean catches sight of Reiner’s huge, shit-eating grin out of the corner of his eye. “Well, then you’re in the right place! Do you have a design and placement in mind?”

“Yeah, let me just…” Jean reluctantly lets go of Marco’s hand—his grip had been strong and firm, and led Jean to wonder what else he’d be able to do with hand strength like that—and starts digging in his messenger bag. “Hang on, I’ve got it right here…”

“Reiner didn’t say you were an artist.”

“He’s not,” Reiner interrupts, before Jean can answer. “Not formally, anyway. He’s working on his master’s.”

“Really?” Marco’s attention, temporarily diverted, is back on Jean, and he could bask in its warm glow. “What are you studying?”

“Botany.” Jean unearths his sketchbook and starts flipping through it. “I started working at a plant shop in high school, and it kind of got under my skin.” He finds the finished drawing and hands it over, suddenly shy. “What do you think?”

Marco takes the book carefully and turns the drawing around so he can see it, and Jean notices the sleeves crawling up and down his arms, going all the way down to his wrists. One arm is done in bright reds and oranges, autumn colors, and the other in paler greens and blues. He’d like to get a closer look, but he doesn’t know the protocol here; Reiner loves showing off his tattoos and will at the slightly provocation, but maybe Marco is more shy. 

Marco grins at the drawing. “This is _super_ cute!”

“Thanks.” Jean can feel a faint blush rising on his cheeks, and hates himself for it. 

“Did you draw the plant on the back from life?” 

“Yeah. We, uh… they sell really well in the shop, and they’re one of my favorites, so…” Jean shrugs. “I thought they looked good on the Bulbasaur design.”

“Was Bulbasaur your starter? He’s the one I always chose.”

“Usually Charmander, actually.” Jean chuckles and rubs his arm. “I didn’t start to appreciate Bulbasaur’s charms until I got a little older.”

“You’re both wrong.” Reiner has taken up residency in one of the tattooing chairs, and is watching them with a sly, knowing grin on his face. “Squirtle is where it’s at.”

“ _No_.” Jean and Marco say it in unison, then look at each other in surprise before starting to laugh. It’s a great feeling; Jean hasn’t done that with someone in a long, long time, hasn’t had this kind of instant connection since he can’t remember when.

“Any idea where you want it?” Marco asks once his laughing fit has died down a little, and Jean’s thirsty mind takes a moment to parse that and figure out what, exactly, he means. He wants it all kinds of places, but only a tattoo in one.

“I was thinking here?” He gestures to his upper right arm, on the inside, close to his body.

“Okay.” Marco smiles at him, a sunny, naturally friendly smile, and Jean feels like he could melt right into his boots. “Can you take off your coat so I can get a better look at your arm?”

Jean willingly strips out of his coat, and is pleased that he wore his vintage REM t-shirt today. He tosses his coat to Reiner, who catches it deftly, and then offers his arm to Marco.

“Is this your first one?” Marco asks, taking Jean’s arm and gently turning it around so he can see the inside of his arm. His touch is warm and gentle, his hands sure of themselves, and Jean is pretty sure the way he’s running his thumb up and down the length of his upper arm, angled away so Reiner can’t see, isn’t entirely necessary for figuring out this tattoo thing.

“Yeah.” Jean sounds a little breathless, and Marco glances up, meeting his eyes for a moment and offering the quickest, faintest of smiles, before looking back down and continuing the stroking motion with his thumb. “Is that bad?”

“That’s fine.” Marco looks up again, and there’s a glint in his eyes that is positively devilish. “We like virgins around here.”

Reiner snorts laughter, and Jean feels himself flush again. “Is it a good design and stuff?”

“It’s a great design. Couldn’t have done it better myself.” Marco looks back at Jean’s arm, and this time he’s more professional, moving it back and forth, clearly visualizing where the tattoo is going to go. “As I’m sure you figured out from Reiner’s tattoo, I need some practice getting my flowers down.”

“Do you want to come to the shop sometime and draw what we’ve got there?”

“Would you mind?” Marco looks positively delighted at the prospect, which surprises Jean a little; he’d regretted the offer as soon as he’d made it, assuming Marco would think he was being needy or something. Such ready acceptance and confidence is refreshing. “I love the way plants and flowers look, but I have trouble getting the exact details down.”

“It’d be fine.” Getting to hang out and look at Gorgeous Marco while getting paid to do so? Sign Jean right the fuck up.

“Excellent.” Marco wraps his hand around Jean’s bicep—it nearly fits all the way around, which makes Jean feel slightly dizzy—and when he strokes the back of his fingers down Jean’s side, along his ribcage, Jean knows it’s no accident. “That would be… fun.”

~*~

Tattoo artists wear latex gloves while they work, and the sight of Marco pulling gloves onto his hands, along with the distinctive snap of latex, is enough to give Jean half an erection.

~*~

It turns out that tattoos hurt a lot more than Jean thought they would. Enough to effectively kill any lingering erection.

The fact that Marco is practically between his legs helps, though. Just not enough to bring the boner back.

“I’m sorry,” Marco says apologetically as he sprays Jean’s burning inner arm with some kind of magical elixir of the gods, which soothes the fire and makes everything feel fresh and clean again. Jean wonders if Marco had to go on some kind of heroic quest to get that liquid, because it’s obviously magical. “You picked one of the most painful spots for a first tattoo.”

“Why didn’t you _warn_ me?!” Jean rasps angrily at Reiner, who is still hanging out and watching over things with a benevolent eye.

“You wouldn’t have believed me.” Reiner is flipping through a book of designs that Marco gave him, and his face lights up when he finds one he likes. “Marco, do you have time next week to do this octopus next to my flower?”

“Sure, we can make an appointment when I’m done here.” The needle starts buzzing again and Jean grits his teeth in anticipation.

Marco looks up at him; to reach the spot on Jean’s arm, he’s sitting parallel but facing him, his right elbow resting lightly on Jean’s side as he leans in to tattoo Jean’s outstretched arm. It’s that small spot of pressure that Jean focuses on, when the tattoo needle starts biting into his skin. That, and the cheerful, pleasant banter Marco keeps up as he traces lines onto Jean’s arm.

“So how are you two related?” Marco asks, and Jean tries not to yelp as he lowers the needle back onto his skin.

“It’s pretty complicated…” Jean tries to answer, but Reiner cheerfully pipes up with the explanation.

“His uncle married my uncle, so we’re technically cousins, although pretty far removed.”

“We met at the wedding party ten years ago,” Jean explains before having to close his eyes.

“Sorry, I know that area hurts a lot.” Marco brushes the sides of his fingers over Jean’s forearm, latex whispering over bare skin, and that’s even more soothing than the bottle of magic liquid. “Ten years ago, huh? So right after it became legal.”

“Yeah, but they’d been together for years already.” Jean turns his head a little and cracks his eyes open; Marco is focusing on the tattoo again, which means Jean can watch him all he wants and not be a creeper. Marco’s eyelashes are absurdly long, brushing the tops of his cheeks every time he blinks, and Jean notices a smattering of youthful freckles on his cheeks for the first time. His skin is dark enough that they’re almost hidden, but they’re definitely there, and Jean suddenly wants to count each and every one.

“They’re one of those obnoxious old couples that bicker all the time but still really love each other,” Reiner chimes in helpfully as he gets up from his chair. “I’m heading out, Jean, you got this under control?”

“I’m good.” Jean shoots Reiner a grateful look, and Reiner grins and gives him a thumbs up behind Marco’s back. For all that Reiner drives Jean crazy sometimes, he’s an excellent wingman when he puts his mind to it.

“Call me later to set up that appointment?” Marco asks, but he’s lifting his eyes and looking at Jean while he does, and a faint smile teases at the corners of his full lips. 

“Sure.” Reiner lets himself out, and as the door closes behind him, Marco’s smile grows, and he turns off the tattooing gun and sets it aside.

“So, um…” He flushes a little, and Jean is secretly delighted that Marco’s face gets red when he’s embarrassed too. “This is ten million kinds of unprofessional, but…”

“Want to get a coffee when we’re done here?” Jean finishes for him. Hey, this is a set-up and they both know it; the tattoo, while adorable and well-done, is secondary.

Marco blinks, and his smile grows. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Great.” Jean realizes he’s grinning like a fool, and he doesn’t even care. “How much longer is it going to take?”

Marco chuckles. “About half an hour. I need to color the plant on its back and then I’ll be finished.”

~*~

The coffee is good.

The sight and sound of Marco pulling latex over other parts of his body later that evening is even better, and the way he holds Jean’s hands while shoving him down into a mattress is about the best thing Jean could imagine. He hardly notices how it makes his fresh tattoo hurt.

~*~

Jean sighs and stares moodily out the window of the plant shop. An unexpected snowfall has shut down most of the city, and he’s almost ready to throw in the towel and close down for the night. He hasn’t had a customer in almost an hour, and all the plants have been watered and tended to for the night.

He’s not just grouchy about the snow and the slow work shift, and he knows it. It’s been almost a week, and except for a few text messages, he and Marco haven’t spoken. He’d thought there’d been a spark—seriously, almost a full roll of condoms _and_ breakfast together the next morning, and no response to his texts?—but apparently not. Even Reiner has been baffled and apologetic about it, swearing up and down that he’s convinced Marco is a good guy and there has to be some explanation.

Jean sighs and rolls the sleeve up on his shirt, looking down at his tattoo. Marco had done a really good job on it, despite possibly being a filthy rat-bastard, and it’s healed up well. The cheerful Bulbasaur grins up at Jean, and Jean runs a finger over it. The surface of his skin is smooth and flat, the colors of the Pokemon vibrant. It could be worse, he supposes; at least he got a sweet tattoo out of the deal.

A bell jingles from the front of the shop, and Jean sighs again, rolling his eyes as he slouches to the front desk. 

“Hi, can I help…” The words die on his lips as he stares.

“Hey.” Marco brushes snow off the shoulders of his leather jacket and smiles sheepishly. “Do you know there are about twenty different shops in this city that sell succulents?”

“Those other places are shit.” The words are out before Jean can pull them back, but hey, now he’s all in. “They don’t know what they’re doing.” What is he doing here? Why is Marco showing up now, and looking just as beautiful as the last time Jean saw him?

Marco chuckles, and drops a backpack off his pack. “I guess so. None of the plants there looked as good as the ones here.”

“That’s because I’m here taking care of them.”

They stare at each other for a few moments before Marco looks away. “I’m really sorry I didn’t answer your texts.”

Jean blinks; that’s a pretty pleasant level of honesty. “Okay.”

“My mom got sick and I had to leave the city for a few days.” Marco shrugs, looking embarrassed. “I left my phone charger at home.”

Jean bites back on the question he’s thinking— _and you couldn’t just go to the store and buy another one?_ —as he remembers what Marco’s phone looks like. Ancient, bulky, practically a Zack Morris phone. He probably couldn’t find a charger for it. “Is she okay?”

“Yeah!” Marco brightens at the question. “She’s fine now. I’m, um… can you help me pick out some flowers to send her? And then maybe let me stick around and draw some of them?”

“Sure.” Jean could keep being angry, he figures he has the right to, but having Marco in his presence again is intoxicating, just like being drunk. Reiner was right—they’ve got a connection, and it’s one Jean feels helpless to fight.

“Thank you.” Marco waits until Jean comes out from behind the counter, then steps close, almost invading Jean’s space. “I’ve got no right to ask you this, but if you wouldn’t mind giving me another chance… coffee later?”

Jean tilts his head back, which is all the invitation Marco needs to take another step closer, and lifts one hand to lay it on Marco’s chest. His jacket is cold and wet, but Jean can feel his heartbeat strumming under his palm, and he watches as Marco’s pupils dilate a little. “Sounds great.”

And he stretches up for a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for this very cute prompt, Madblippo! I had a lot of fun writing it and hope you like it!
> 
> If anyone is interested, Jean and Reiner are related like this: Levi is Jean's uncle, older brother to Jean's dad Farlan. Mike is Reiner's uncle, related to Reiner when he got married to Reiner's mom Renee's sister, Nanaba. Mike is Erwin's younger brother, and when Erwin and Levi got married, Jean and Reiner became cousins. Or something. It's complicated. These are the kinds of things I think about when I decide that Mike shouldn't be Reiner's dad for once, although that's about my favorite modern AU quirk.


End file.
